


Neva 741

by KnifingGale



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: And they were bunkermates..., Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Belikov is kinda obsessive in this, Bell Needs A Hug, Bell whump, Bunkers, Chunga Changa, Cold War, F/M, Female Bell (Call of Duty), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Language Barrier, Nuclear Warfare, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Perseus' Plan B, Pre-nuclear apocalypse suicide attempt, Protective Dimitri Belikov (Call of Duty), Russian Roulette, Sharing a Bed, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, but he has a reason to be that way, even though Belikov can speak english, initially, mutually assured destruction, that awkward moment when one's chosen bunkermate has a will to live in the negative hundreds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28315371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnifingGale/pseuds/KnifingGale
Summary: All Bell wanted to do was keel over before she saw the consequences of her failure rain down from the sky. Yet a familiar figure from her past begged to differ.orIn which Belikov chooses a bunkermate who has a will to live in the negative hundreds. Too bad, he's hellbent on keeping her alive.
Relationships: Dimitri Belikov & Bell (Call of Duty), Dimitri Belikov/Bell (Call of Duty)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Neva 741

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicide Attempt, drug use.

Your hands slipped slightly in their grip on the blood-slicken surface of the glass vodka bottle as you poured yourself yet another shot, the stream of clear liquid shaking ever so slightly and overfilling the shot glass. You watched indifferently as the liquid spilled wastefully through the metal bars of the table and onto the concrete below. 

Your “companion” beside you wasn’t going to need the drink.

Nor was anyone else in the coming hour or so. 

Months of drugs, pain, _remembrance_ all for _t_ _his_. 

_Perseus_ , you had thought months ago with only tatters of your jagged memories, _was never a man without another plan_. 

When one had failed, Perseus would come up with an even grander plan. 

The West will fall. 

The East will fall. 

_We will all fall together_ , you thought, tilting the shot glass up sharply to your lips. The numbing burn of vodka down your throat was pleasant. 

You didn’t want to feel. 

No, that wasn’t quite right. 

You wanted to feel _nothing_. 

Oblivion. 

It was quite easy for you to slip your hand into the pocket of your parka, finding the familiar shape of the small bottle. As you opened the cap, you found yourself staring into the familiar rainbow of pills you had familiarized with over the past several months.

_For the greater good_ , you had reasoned to yourself.

Like you were some _hero_. 

_"You’re a goddamned hero, you know that, kid?”_

“No,” you spoke softly as you looked to the burning sunset sky contrasting against the skyline of Leningrad, “I’m a coward.” 

You couldn’t face the consequences of your actions, your _failure_. 

This time the vodka poured in a steady stream into the shot glass. With little grandeur, you popped the rainbow of pills into your mouth and chased it down with the vodka. 

You leaned back into your chair with a sigh, the sense of urgency finally leaving you for the first time you could ever remember. You had already done everything you could now. You told the good old Company everything. You had always done so even when they sent operatives to chase you down. 

They thought you were desperate. 

And you were. 

You just happened to not be lying at the same time. 

You glanced over to Leningrad's skyline and the burning sun setting over the various apartment buildings scattered all over the city. The sun burned your eyes as you instinctively blinked several times. 

You must have lost yourself in the burning sky as when you finally tore your eyes away from the sight, you caught a glimpse of the blurry outline of an all too familiar figure.

You nodded in acknowledgment at the figure.

The man behind the slaughter himself.

_“I’ll see you in hell.”_

* * *

Your eyes squinted as you looked down at the clear glass bottom of the vodka bottle. It was finally empty. 

You felt a pleasant haziness over your being as well as an all-consuming heaviness tugging at your being. You knew what was to come, but you couldn’t feel it anymore. 

Oblivion was coming. 

You could barely make out the countless shiny bright jewels of light littering the distance in the skyline of Leningrad. They were all those brilliant against the darkness of the night. 

As much as you wanted to admire it all, you longed, even more, to close your eyes and submit to that heaviness tugging at your eyes. You weren’t going to fight it. 

You didn’t want to be around for what happened next. 

It wasn’t the kind of death that awaited you that made you take the coward’s way out. 

No, it was seeing your consequences. 

Seeing the faces of those who had to bear them-

You shook your head slightly to yourself as you finally rested your head on your folded arms on the table.

You wanted it to be quick.

And so you awaited Death with each and every breath you took.

…However, _Death sure was loud and windy_ , you mused hazily much later. The strands of your hair were slapping against your face as you proceeded to bury your head further more into the shelter of your arms against the sudden gusts of wind-

“ _давай скорее, друг мой!_ ”

And Death spoke Russian as well.

Apparently, he wasn’t taking your silence as a “no” as you felt yourself being hauled against something firm and metallic with your feet dragging on the ground. Eventually, Death himself must have grown impatient for your world tilted sideways with your chest shoved against the hard, metallic surface once more.

You could hear the scream of sirens in the air that just droned on and on until you could hear the chorus of other screams intermingling with it all. Laughter escaped your lips as your shoulders trembled.

Death sure had good timing.

Speaking of Death…the Grim Reaper was apparently in a hurry. You felt your very breath knocked out of your lungs when your back connected against the…seat you found yourself in. Large gloved hands pulled straps over your shoulders to connect into a cross harness.

“ _Хорошо! Если мы уйдем сейчас, мы сможем это сделать. Еще не поздно..._ ” you heard Death murmur to himself.

You blinked. This…this wasn’t all what you expected your final encounter with Death to be like. But then again, here you were in a nuclear apocalypse.

…it was only when you heard Death walk away a few steps before hearing the sound of metal clanging that you realized he was out in front of whatever you were in.

…The familiar whirring of blades slicing through air was something you couldn’t mistake.

You once again blinked.

Death had a helicopter.

_Nice_ , you mused distantly.

You leaned back against the surprisingly comfortable seat, gazing out at the jewels shining down below in the night.

They wouldn’t shine so brightly soon enough.

You felt your world suddenly tilt as the helicopter was going higher and higher. Soon enough, the jewels shining in the night grew smaller and smaller until they faded out in the distance.

Now, all you could see was the darkness below.

You noticed the fiery streaks going through the sky, smoke following them like a trail. Some erupted from the ground in the distance while others were pin streaks raining down from the sky.

If it was put into biblical terms, it was akin to the wrath of heaven and hell itself.

However, in that moment, you couldn’t help but compare them to shooting stars.

You had never seen them before in memory, what little you could remember anyways.

_Make a wish_ , you thought to yourself.

‘ _I wish_ -‘

Your thoughts were cut off by the sudden string of rapid-fire Russian coming from the Grim Reaper over the crackling intercom system.

“ _дерьмо, дерьмо-_ ” You registered a fiery pin streak rapidly going through the air towards a clearing amongst the endless forest of trees in the distance. The pin streak grew larger and larger until it struck the clearing, sending a fiery cloud shooting upwards.

_A mushroom cloud._

It was almost instantaneous. The trees surrounding that small patch of clearing suddenly bowed in the other direction in the shockwave erupting from the nuclear explosion. You felt the helicopter violently turn to face away from the explosion as it climbed higher into the air.

Yet there was no escaping it.

You vaguely wondered if it was possible to die when Death had already taken you away.

The whirring of alarms coming from the cockpit made your very ears ring sharply. And then the helicopter spun round and round until your very head spun along with it-

And suddenly you knew nothing.

* * *

The afterlife sure was hot.

Not that you were surprised by that outcome of your destination.

Yet as you blinked away the heat and smoke irritating your eyes, you wondered why the afterlife still stuck with the helicopter.

Was it some kind of sign?

Your thoughts were swept away by the sound of banging on the door of the cabin until you heard it slide open with a deafening bang. You stared blearily at the blurry figure awaiting you at the open door.

Death.

You laid your head back on the ground once again. At this point, you were too tired to even deal with Death ironically enough. Your vision was already clouded in a series of flashes with color splotches and stars scattered across your field of vision.

Yet even as your vision went dark for several moments, you heard debris and metal getting kicked aside and familiar gloved hands grabbing you by the arms and pulling you over the burning remains of the helicopter cabin until you felt solid ground against your back.

You tried to speak but whatever you said came out as more of a strangled whimper than anything else.

Those large gloved hands slid underneath your back before hauling you up into the air. You felt your body spasm slightly from a numbed sensation you could only attribute as pain. It was only when you leaned back against Death that you realized the metallic surface was _armor_.

_How medieval_ , you thought with a light laugh that only made your chest ache as you shook with laughter. Even as your ear ached from bumping into the hard surface of his armor again and again from all the jostling, you couldn’t help but laugh.

Eventually, all the jostling came to a stop and you forced your eyes to open while blinking as much as you could to focus them. It was darker now. No light from the burning fires, fiery pin streaks in the air, or jewels twinkling in the night…

And then suddenly everything went white.

You immediately shut your eyes as white light streamed from above in all angles. You could hear the sound of something heavy and mechanized moving but all you could do was blink rapidly in an effort to get adjusted to the light.

“ _Мы сделали это! Ведь хитрый Петров был прав…_ ”

You finally looked up at Death only to blink at what you saw. You weren’t entirely sure if it was the adrenaline that caused your brain to temporarily lift from the fog. But all you knew was that he looked... familiar. The uniform, the blonde hair, the Russian accent and communication, and the helicopter-

And then you just _knew_.

**_Dimitri Ivanovich Belikov_**.

It was a name you had mulled over in your thoughts from time to time over some vodka. He was the double-agent in Lubyanka that had assisted you and Adler in getting the names of the sleeper agents, even at the cost of him blowing his cover. After Solovetsky, you heard about the hit placed on him thanks to The Company’s policy of tying up loose ends.

You bought him some time with a sniper bullet to the assassin’s head and some intel tips later on in the past couple of months.

Although, really you knew that Belikov didn’t need your help.

You saw the body bags in Lubyanka after all.

You forced yourself to roll over onto your belly with your arms shakily helping you off the ground as you stood on rather shaky legs while now holding the wall in front of you.

“I uh already gone through with killing myself.” You said as best as you could, trying your best not to sound awkward in the final moments of your life. Really, you weren’t expecting an ex-KGB pilot to suddenly grab you out of a rooftop on Leningrad and secrete you away to some bunker out in the woods, “I’ll be keeling over at any moment now.” You added awkwardly after a moment of pause.

…still no response. Although, you didn’t bring yourself to look up at the man. Really, you were already disappointing him enough as it was.

As you felt your lungs start to tighten more and more, you quickly said, “You uh might want to throw me out now. I bet you don’t want a corpse in your bunker. I don’t mind the radiation trust me-“

And then you finally felt your legs buckle and give way.

Your vision flared white again and again as you felt your body suddenly shake and tremble until all you saw was white-

_"Нет, нет, нет-”_

* * *

“ _Это Служба радиовещания военного времени. Эта страна подверглась нападению с применением ядерного оружия-_ ”

You couldn’t help but groan at the rather loud and constant crackling string of Russian in the background and more importantly the acrid taste in your mouth. It was as if someone made you eat the ashy remains of a firepit.

“ _-Связь серьезно нарушена, а количество пострадавших и степень ущерба пока не известны_.”

But even that was at the back of your mind as soon as you noticed the feeling of cotton sheets on your person and the white fluorescent light swaying above you ever so slightly with the occasional flicker.

You were still alive.

And all you could feel wasn’t even sadness or anger but just the familiar numbness that enveloped you after Solovetsky.

You flexed your hands out in front of you, distantly comprehending still that you were here.

Even after everything that happened-

Suddenly, you shivered. You threw back the cotton sheets and gripped the hand rails of the hospital bed you were on, as you swung your legs onto the floor only to feel them instantly buckle with your arm catching most of the fall onto the floor.

You immediately heard footsteps rushing to your side and the sound of rapid-fire Russian spoken quickly. You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Hell, you didn’t even want him to look at you.

Not now.

Not after what you did.

And so all you could do was grab the slightly rough olive-green fabric of his military coat and pull him towards you as you stared down at your hands grasping the collar of his coat.

“Why? Why _me_?” 

Because there was one simple truth you knew:

You weren’t worth saving.

You felt a light pressure at your chin, tilting your face upwards. You allowed the motion reluctantly only to see dark eyes staring down at you with an almost sympathetic look to them.

" _Я всегда возвращаю свои долги._ ”

You vaguely wondered why he kept on speaking Russian when he knew you weren’t a native speaker. You knew he probably hadn’t guessed that your knowledge and skill in Russian and other areas had been affected by Solovetsky. As it would turn out, bullet-inflicted brain damage sure did put a damper on a lot of things.

“I never asked to be saved,” you said tiredly, still looking up at him. Let him see how you were numb to everything, how you couldn’t go on after everything that’s happened. Then he would understand that he needed to let you go.

Belikov tilted his head slightly with a rather oddly amused smile.

“ _И все же вы выглядели так, будто вам нужно спасти._ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this came about as an interesting Bell whump idea while combining a semi-cracky premise of Belikov saving Bell amidst all the chaos. And so this fic came about!
> 
> Also, I had to rely on Google Translate for the Russian...so apologies in advance to any Russian-speakers who happen to be reading this!  
> 1: "Come quickly, my friend!"  
> 2: “Good! If we leave now, we can make it. It isn’t too late…”  
> 3: "Shit, shit-"  
> 4: “We made it! That sly Petrov was right, after all…”  
> 5: "No, no, no-"  
> 6: "This is the Wartime Broadcasting Service. This country has been attacked with nuclear weapons." (actually copied from the old British "four minute warning" emergency nuclear broadcast since I couldn't find out much about soviet nuclear warning systems during the Cold War)  
> 7: "Communications have been severely disrupted, and the number of casualties and the extent of the damage are not yet known." (actually copied from the old British "four minute warning" emergency nuclear broadcast)
> 
> I finished up writing this at 3am so I technically wrote this on Christmas...Well, anyways, Merry Christmas, y'all! I hope you enjoyed reading this. Thanks for reading!


End file.
